A Second Chance
by RavenClawRavensandSlytherins
Summary: Mala saw Aelin's fate - heard her pleas. She watched her in shackles, saving the world at the expense of her own. And so she gave them a second chance - sending them to the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

When Aelin woke again the darkness felt different.

Blackness still encaged her, yet the shackles didn't burn her very soul - they stung like knives into her skin. Her eyes had long lost the ability to tell if they were open or shut, but even without her sight the cell seemed larger.

She was no longer in that iron box.

There was no clawing burn of the solid wall into her mutilated back - the wounds themselves seemed to be half healed. Her magic (which had been forcefully repressed and caged) was gone. She felt as weak and nauseated as she had the first few days of her return from Mistward.

And the bond - her bond with Rowan - she couldn't feel it. Her magic was more than blocked, it was numb and unfeeling. A fog made of icy mist seemed to crawl around her.

What had that bitch queen done?

A sharp clang of heavy metal invaded the ice that encroached her mind. A door creaked open.

A half dozen guards marched through, wearing the dark uniforms of Endovier. From the faint light she noticed as she was yanked up, Aelin recognised the hovel of a cell that was hers in Endovier. She laughed a hateful bitter noise that made all the guards tense and reach for their swords.

"What tricks has the Royal Highness now conjured?" She taunted. Her voice was raspy from disuse, the murder in her glare causing the guard behind her to shove into her wounds.

They said nothing.

And as she stepped into the shrouded hallways of Endovier, she spotted her old overseer standing with a black cloaked figure. Air seemed to be stolen from her lungs - and she couldn't take another in.

Chaol.

Maeve did not have the skill for this illusion. The details were too precise - the hooded black ensemble of the captain of the Adarlan Guard has every detail it needed, down to the eagle winged sword pommel. And his gaze - even shrouded by his hood - was cold and unfeeling. Wary. Distrustful. The tense set of his shoulders and grip on his blade told her that he did not know her yet.

Gods.

She felt herself get lost in the fog of her mind and barely noticed Chaol taking her shackled arm and leading her through the corridors of Endovier, up flights of stairs and back around as he had done all that time ago. The guards followed closely behind. She faintly noticed the suspicious turn of his head in her direction at her lack of response.

This was not the Chaol she had sent to Antica with Nesryn, confined to a wheelchair. She contemplated the idea of Maeve forcing her to live through her memories - but why would she choose this day? She had been freed this day. Not like the days before of torture and hunger and pain. Freed while those who remained were massacred. Those whom she had failed.

But it felt too real.

She stumbled slightly and Chaol's grip tightened around her arm.

How could this be real?

She remembered how Chaol had responded to her first conversation with him. Remembered his suspicion and distrust - his doubt of her questioning. His unrelenting defence of Adarlan. She needed her mask of Celaena - the swagger and arrogance, the bitter loathing she had felt and how it consumed her. Despite her reluctance to be that person again, Aelin pushed back her shoulders in arrogance ignoring the bite of her lashings. Her head raised with arrogance and she let her lips - torn and bloodied- rise in a crooked, wicked smirk meant to taunt. She looked at Chaol - who would love her, hate her, and be her confidante - and let her gaze sharpen into that of an assassin.

Chaol gripped his sword tighter.

She had almost forgotten the words that passed her lips.

"You're a long way from Rifthold, Captain." She remembered her fear, the looming death that she had once dreaded. "Did you come with the Army I heard thumping around earlier?" She didn't dare to let the hope she felt be seen. He had once replied with derision and doubt - she never thought she'd want that reaction again.

But he said again what he said in her memories "What do you care for the armies of Adarlan?"

Aelin fell silent again. Her mask barely faltered at the confirmation of her suspicions - there was instinct and a foreign warmth that told her she was in the past. Maeve would not let Aelin have even a speck of hope - in any illusion she was sure Chaol would taunt her, hurt her as Maeve had tortured her. She would not allow her the comfort of the past.

She had somehow been sent to the beginning. Her body was younger and lacked the scars it had slowly gained in the years. How had she been sent back? And why now, why not earlier? Earlier before the king had ever opened that tomb? Why not be able to save Sam - to have him and his companionship again? Why her alone? Chaol didn't know her or remember her - what could she do alone? She missed Rowan with a grief that felt like a punch to her gut. Rowan wouldn't know her. Her mate and husband would still be in the clutches of Maeve drowning in his own grief. He didn't even know she existed and Arobynn the spineless scum still ruled the streets of the capital.

Grief encased her for the court she had left behind. The people in the present would not know her or grow to be the same - if she could prevent any harm that could befall them she would. Dorian would never be possessed, Chaol would never land in the wheelchair - Nehemia would not die this time. The massacres of Calcula and Endovier would not be allowed. Rowan would not spend another week with the bitch queen.

This time Aelin would win.

They stopped in front those familiar red and gold glass doors. Chaol gestured for the guards to open it, and she knew behind it a throne room contrasting with the cruelties of the prison would be revealed. Chaol's grip tightened Aelin barely felt the ache of it. She was consumed by the wildfire, and she looked ahead into the lavishly furnished room at Dorian.

First, she had a championship to win.

Chaol stepped forward and bowed low in front of Dorian, removing his hood and revealing his face. Aelin's breath stuttered slightly as she looked at them. The sheer youth of their faces - their eyes not yet hardened by the months of pain ahead.

"Celaena Sardothien - Adarlans most infamous assassin."

Aelin recalled the hatred she had once felt for the crown prince and his guard. The defiance that had sparked in her eyes at what she had perceived them to be. She couldn't bring herself to imitate the same hateful bitterness again. Chaol and Dorian looked at her expectantly. She locked her gaze with that of Dorian's and inclined her head. Not a deep bow that was expected of a broken slave - a gesture of acknowledgment earned through actions not yet committed.

Steps thudded behind her and she twisted through the weight of her chains. An instinct this body had forgotten urged her to move, the shackles cutting deep into her skin as she jabbed out with her elbows in a gesture of self-defence. Duke Parrington's obsidian eyes glittered with the hatred of the demon who slumbered inside, and he surged forward to push her into the marble floor beneath.

" _This_ is the proper way to greet you future King" he spat.

Aelin twisted her knee forward into his gut - the guards too in shock to move - and took advantage of his pain to counter his weight as her eyes saw red. A rage of wildfire consumed her, and she knew if her magic had not been sealed the hall would burn. He flinched, and she didn't register the blood that dripped from her shackles as she used all the strength in her weakened body to push his own away. The guards surged forward, gripping her arms and resting the cold metal of their swords to her throat.

"Enough!" Dorian's voice was an echo of the power he would command.

Aelin stilled. The hall was silent except for the heavy breathing of its occupants. She could not bring herself to regret her attack, though she understood the foolishness of it.

"Sardothien."

It had been awhile since she had been referred to by that name.

"Another attack to any member of my guard or court and it will be more than your life at stake."

Dorian looked at her with a calculating surprise. He had not expected that attack, and the promise was more in defence of Chaol than anything else. Aelin knew he didn't know yet of Erawen, nor had he experienced his magic or possession. She had been foolish. Without magic, in shackles and with her body so weak she had attempted an attack on the king of demons - she needed to control herself. Let nothing slip and arise no suspicion till she figures out a plan.

Taking a deep steadying breath - she nodded sharply at Dorian. Something in his eyes told her he understood she wouldn't try anything again.

"Duke Perrington. Don't you have a meeting with Endovier's treasurer? I would hate for you to be late." The dismissal was obvious and Aelin shuddered just slightly as the obsidian eyes of the demon regarded her as he left. Aelin noticed the blood and dirt that now stained the marble floor and frowned at the evidence of her ill-considered actions.

But perhaps this proved her skill even in chains.

Dorian considered her and smiled a charming, courtesan smile. It lacked any of its future warmth and was oddly sharp, perhaps threatening to who she had been when she first met Dorian. Now though - now it did not spark any of the fear that it had aimed to induce. His posture radiated the power of his position.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of an introduction." Aelin shifted and the metal rang in

the air at her movement. The warm blood trickled down her arm from the opened cut. She had met this Dorian once before - on the night of her family's murder. Not that he would remember or recognise her as the same little girl.

"…. the Crown Prince of most of Erilea. You seem a little young." Dorian paused here, and his eyes flickered to the door Perrington had exited, "But perhaps that display proves your skill more than the tales that have been spread."

Aelin said nothing. Chaol stepped closer, his boot barely making a thud against the marble floor.

"After a year you seem more than alive - how curious that Endovier has not broken your spirit when most don't last more than one month?"

Aelin lifted her gaze, arching a mud encrusted brow at Dorian's attempt for to gage her.

"Most are not trained assassins." Maybe Dorian wouldn't get that hint - how most who suffered through the slave camps were the rebels escaping brutality or defending against. Most who did not deserve the conditions in which they survived.

Something in her gaze, the cold sharpness of that caused Chaol to snap defensively. "Your

Highness."

And Aelin couldn't hold her tongue in response.

"As flattering as that is, _Captain_ , I'm not the Queen of Assassins- yet."

There was a stunned silence in the room, Chaol scowled at her and the hand that gripped his sword tightened. After a pause a laugh stuttered out of Dorian, amused and surprised.

"You do know you're a slave?"

Aelin wondered at the ease at which he laughed and didn't respond. How carefree they had been even after her release from Endovier. Dorian stood and walked down from his throne. Chaol stepped closer in his defence, glaring at Aelin for her remark.

Dorian hands tapped against each other as he shifted. Before, there had been an exchange about how she snapped - her eagerness for death. But her life now had a purpose and her death would serve that. Perhaps the determined steel of her eyes convinced Dorian to cut past the small talk.

"I have a proposition for you."

Aelin inclined her head towards him, "Indeed?"

Dorian swept her body with his gaze and Aelin struggled not to bristle against the act.

"Chaol stay where you are - the rest you, leave us."

The guards filed out and Aelin wondered if he knew how foolish that action was. She had just demonstrated her lack of restraint - and had she been any other assassin Dorian would not have left the room alive.

Dorians eyes never left hers as the last of the guards disappeared. Aelin didn't break the gaze and carefully kept her eyes void of anything that may betray her uncertainty. She just needed to get through this encounter and she would be freer than she had been in weeks.

"My father has found himself in need of a Champion - to keep his opponents silent."

Aelin turned her lips into an echo of a smile.

"And if I accept?" The words repeated as if by instinct.

"Your freedom granted after 6 years."

There was a tension in his shoulders and she remembered how much Dorian needed her to say yes.

Freedom. A small word that promised such hope. She yearned for it with everything she had - the freedom to run away with Rowan and leave the world to burn in spite. But the bite of her bonds reminded her of the people she could not fail - and she would need to be the champion again for some time to free them. There was also the matter of Erawen…

Her silence urged him to elaborate.

"There is a catch. The position is not yet yours - you'll have to fight for it."

She answered as she expected to, almost bored. "These competitors - do they measure up to my skill?"

Chaol scoffed from beside Dorian, who grinned. "That confidence might be charming if it were true! They're Assassins and thieves from around Erilea and perhaps you'd be able to best them if you were trained to your former strength."

"Three years."

"Excuse me?"

Aelin knew her she needed to bargain, as many years as she could get. She allowed the arrogance of Celaena to temper her words and shifted her hips in feigned exasperation.

"We both know I will win. Three years of service and I'll be your Champion."

Chaol scoffed at her demands, but Dorian regarded her with a calculating gleam she had not seen before.

"Four years of service and a wage as the Champion, provided you prove you have both the skill and are trustworthy."

Aelin looked at him and her breath was suddenly hard to gain again. This mask was exhausting to maintain, and the blood continued to trickle down her body. She needed to leave, and she didn't care for any more of this taunting exchange.

"I accept your offer." The tone was careful, and her features still pulled into the arrogant but blank mask of Celaena Sardothien.

Dorian addressed Chaol.

"Take her to her rooms and get her cleaned up. I will explain the rest in the morning when we depart for Rifthold."

Aelin hadn't heard the last words he said to her or felt the grip Chaol held her arm with as he led her away. When he unlocked her shackles in the bare room that would be hers for the night she had felt every turn of the key deep in her bones.

She had gazed blankly at the brutish servants who had bathed the dirt of her body, noticing the lack of ink that Rowan -Rowan -tattooed on her back. Her wounds ached but her chest hurt far worse with the realisation she had to do it all again.

Was it wrong for her to feel resentful? Exhausted? She didn't have any support - how could she be expected to go through this all on her own? Without an army, without her magic, without Rowan - what could she even change? Reaching down for her magic and her bond she took a shuddering breath that released as a half sob. There was a cold emptiness - a block against her magic and her stomach felt so sick to the core.

The silk of her bedsheets felt foreign on her skin.

She needed to get herself together - plan for the short term and get through the week.

The journey to Rifthold would take every ounce of energy she had, and she could not bring herself to keep holding on to the mask of a girl she had not been in months if not years. Celaena Sardothien had been dead for some time.

Aelin could change so much, save so many lives from her position. Nehemia was still alive - rebellious and ready to serve the world. Aedion would support her once he knew she was alive. Rowan - her heart clenched - she needed to break the blood oath from the bitch. After that it was his choice and his freedom - she would not force him to move on from the first mate he still grieved for. Dorian, she could help Dorian now with his magic - if he had discovered it yet. Lysandra was still with that bitch, Clarisse. Aelin would use the wages she earned, the money she kept locked away to buy her freedom.

The eye of Elena was still in the tomb, and magic was still locked away. Cain would soon start murdering champions under orders of Erawen, and Arobynn still had her amulet and wyrdkey.

There was too much to do and her time was so limited. She chuckled wryly, the sound rasp from disuse. There had never been enough time. Her death was still required and this chance she had been gifted with was that extra time. The foreknowledge of events an advantage to be used with caution.

Tomorrow she would head back to Rifthold. On the journey she would hear the details of the world, try to find out more about her court now - information she didn't think to ask the first time. She would allow herself this journey to grieve for her old court, the relationships which had been irreversibly changed and perhaps would never occur.

And then - and then Aelin would rattle the stars.

* * *

When Rowan had woken up in the old bedroom at Mistward, he had not reacted well to say the least. He had lunged for his weapons and stalked around the site he had protected years ago, watched with a suspicion he had not seen in his companions' eyes in too long. He remembered this day - it was one of the many days he had stayed in the empty room, alone and unbothered when Maeve had sent him away.

His body was younger too, lacking the recent scars and wounds he had gained. The burn from Aelin and the scar on his shoulder from the arrow were gone. Reaching for his bond to his wife - he nearly collapsed from relief when he felt it faintly there, but blocked and unresponsive. The lack of the blood oath that bound him to Maeve explained a lot. If he was indeed in the past - as all evidence suggested - he could find Aelin. Aelin who was just in another country, not in the clutches of the Fae queen. Aelin who may be leaving the Salt Mines - he had snarled at that - but into the relative safety of the Palace. He needed to go to her.

And so, Rowan had packed the meagre supplies he had and headed for the nearest boat to Adarlan. He had apologised to Luca, to Emrys and Malakai for his behaviour. He knew tat he had been drowning in grief in his own past, and they had not deserved his aggressive behaviour. He had given them an address – Aelin's apartment – for them to contact in emergencies.

And then he had set off, making two stops on his way to the nearest boat to Adarlan.

It had not taken long to find a boat willing to leave as soon as possible. Using charming bribes, learned via his wife, the boat had set off at first light.

Rowan, hours later, leaned against the wood of the ship that sailed steadily to Adarlan. As long as he was able he would send a consistent frigid wind in the sails - pushing the ship faster than it would have otherwise drifted.

The water reflected the faint light of the moon and Rowan felt for the mating bond inside him. The block was jarring yet comforting. It existed, and the relief of that fact still hit him with a force he had never known. Aelin would likely not be able to feel it in her human form - blocked from magic as she was. She would assume him still to be with Maeve, perhaps grieving for his first mate. Believe it was her alone who had to endure the world again and change the events.

She would not be alone again, Rowan swore it. They would force the very fabrics of fate to unravel and be woven anew.

Together they would force the world to change.

The moon reflected the heat of the sun into something cooler, crisp and unrelenting. The wind blew more steadily into the sail, and the wood of the ship cut through the ocean tides ever faster.

And now, cloaked in black to hide his Fae nature, he waited restlessly for his return to his queen and mate. This time, he would not fail her. To whatever end - Rowan would find her.

* * *

 **I got the idea from some Harry Potter Fix It fics - what if Mala sent Aelin and Rowan back to the beginning? How much could that foreknowledge change the events of the series?**

 **Just wanted to get this out there - Aelin believes that she was sent alone because the lack of magic in Adarlan prevents her from feeling the mate bond. Rowan, free from that in Wendlyn, can not only feel the bond but also the lack of blood oath to Maeve. Their souls travelled together and he can figure it out from the fact that their bonds still intact.**

 **UPDATE 13/07/2018**

 **So I've edited the first two chapters together, and added and removed a few things - mainly minor at this point but it will change everything a bit more as we go on. Rereading the books gave me new ideas and also made me realise a few things weren't quite right in this story :)**


	2. Chapter 2

When Aelin woke she noticed she had shifted in the night and her head had curled inwards into a pillow. A position she was familiar with, if not for the cold replacement of Rowan's warmth with the flat coolness of her pillow.

It felt a little harder to breathe after that.

Chaol found her in that position, her forehead pushing against the pillow and her hands twisting the sheets too tightly. "Sardothien."

It had been some time since she'd heard that level of cool detachment from him.

Slowly, unwilling to let the illusion of what she hoped the pillow was - as pathetic as she felt for that hope - Aelin removed herself from the end of the bed. All the other duvets and pillows rested on the other end on the floor. If Chaol noticed he didn't comment.

The sunlight glinted through glass of the window and Aelin beheld the shaded light with a wondrous disbelief. How long had she been trapped in iron? Maeve had done her best to trap her in darkness and she expected to die in it. She'd expected to die in darkness in Endovier as well - prayed for it even. Aelin knew that her time was limited and she would savour every breath and warm ray of sunlight on her skin. Uncaring of Chaol's presence, she stood and cautiously approached the window, stepping into the rays.

The servants coiled her hair in a braid and dressed her in the same fine riding clothes they had the first time - Aelin barely felt the sting of the wounds on her back as they bound them. Out of habit, she reached for her wrists and felt the swollen red cuts that would heal into pale scars. She was free from Endovier. Free from Maeve and the chains that bound her had been released. And still a glance out the window reminded her that many were not. She would be living the darkness, but so many more would die in it.

She allowed Chaol to lead her out to the caravan of horses where they would meet Dorian.

The slaves they passed made her stomach clench and twist.

Three sleek black dogs bounded to her and she felt a smile tug at her lips. Nehemia and Fleetfoot were waiting for her at the castle. She knelt for the dogs, showering them with affection as their owner walked up behind her.

"How unusual for them to notice you." He observed.

Aelin didn't look away from the dog she was scratching behind the ear as she responded, "With company like this, I don't blame them."

Chaol scowled at her.

"I suppose I should explain what the rules are - what's expected of you." Dorian began after a curious glance. Aelin turned her head in his direction, ignoring him promptly when he began explaining things she already knew. Lillian, her alias. Her 23 competitors. The challenges she would face.

When he finished he looked at her again, his eyes glinting with a hunger to solve a mystery.

"I wonder - have you really heard a word I said?"

Aelin tilted her head and stretched her lips into a teasing smile, like she would for her Dorian, "Are you implying I would ignore you _, Your Highness?"_

Dorian seemed to have confirmed something to himself and grinned at her before turning away, his dogs following close behind. Chaol stood by the side and frowned disapprovingly at her.

When Aelin climbed onto the saddle of her mare, she had to take a deep steadying breath to prepare for the set of shackles Chaol would strap her into. The mare sensed her uneasiness and shifted nervously. Aelin soothed it, patting it's coat in an attempt to comfort herself. Chaol didn't disappoint and arrived moments later, trapping her bound hands to the shackles connected to his own horse.

Aelin took another deep breath and ignored the surprise on Chaol's face when she didn't protest. The metal wasn't made of iron. It didn't burn her skin and lock away her fire - it wasn't Maeves. It was Chaols. Aelin could trust Chaol. And if she needed to, Aelin was sure she could break her horse free. It could be worse.

This time as they left Endovier, Aelin didn't say a word. She looked back at the prison until it disappeared from view and the crack of whips and pick axes couldn't be heard. This time those prisoners would leave alive. She would make sure of it. With the sun lending her it's warm strength, Aelin set her gaze forward.

Chaol let Aelin stay silent, stopping once for lunch and then continuing on until they stopped for the night.

The fire they made burned hotly and Aelin resisted the urge to run close to its heat. She was prodded to a small tent and shackled again to the ground. Aelin stayed awake for a while that night, listening to the fire crackle and inhaling it's smoky scent.

She needed to gain the championship, the trust of her friends. Then she could go to Wendlyn - to Rowan. First to Mistward, the blade and the ring would be needed to bargain with Maeve for Rowan's freedom. But before that she would have to talk to Elena. See what help she could offer and figure out exactly why she back to this moment in the past. She needed to get the Amulet of Orynth away from Aborynn - it would be easy enough to steal it once she got the fake forged. And Nehemia - maybe she could tell Nehemia what had happened. She could trust her to help, especially to save those in Calcula and Endovier. If she remembered correctly, the massacres occurred more than a few months after she became the champion - perhaps enough time to free Rowan from Maeve before she returned to Adarlan. This time - maybe her armies could be gathered early, stop Erawen while he was still weak.

Under the cover of the stars, Aelin began to form a plan.

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a blur, the days growing shorter and colder as they neared Rifthold. The rain was bitterly cold and the wind blew through her hair in a way that would normally have made her furious.

As it was, it reminded her too much of Rowan. Rowan who would send the cold wind to flick at her nose when she teased him, and mess up her hair when he felt playful. Rowan whose ice matched her fire so completely, who had accepted every part of her.

She was lost in that grief when Dorian's horse neared Chaol's and he led them both to a hilltop. The wind there was calmer, more playful and Aelin could barely breathe it in. The view of the city was breathtaking. The castle stood proudly made of glass, and the river sprawled lazily through the river. If she looked, she could find Aboryn's sect of the city, maybe even pinpoint where she washed up on that river so long ago.

Dorian and Chaol talked quietly beside her as Aelin searched the city with her eyes,its secrets laid bare at this height.

"You look as if you want to wreck the city, brick by brick." Chaol commented as Dorian left. Aelin considered his words.

"Not the city - but maybe it's residents."

If Chaol seemed bothered by the image, he didn't show it.

"Did those residents lead to your capture?"

Once, she had thought the day she had been captured for Endovier was the worst of her life. Until she met Rowan was shot in the shoulder and her heart had stopped beating in fear.

"Those inhabitants have debts they owe me - and I intend to collect."

Aborynn had something of hers. And - maybe this time she would be able to show him the same mercy he showed Sam first hand.

"A debt." The world rolled around in his mouth.

Aelin glanced at him once her eyes cool. She urged her horse forward and Chaol took the hint.

* * *

They didn't set up a tent that night.

She sat forward on her news and stared up at the moon and stars and all the blackness between.

Was it morbid to wonder if she'd join them in death?

If at her death she'd watch over the world from above, joining the stars. Or maybe - would Rowan join her up there one day? Would the memories of the old timeline and the new forge? Would people witness the change she hoped to bring?

It would be enough to watch them all grow old.

Her eyes shut and her hand reached for her chest, where the mating bond had been - where magic had been striped from her, and pretended the breeze drifting around her had been sent by Rowan. Pretended they were camping and he had gone off somewhere with Aedion - Lysandra chatting to Dorian in hushed whispers. Maybe he had grinned at her only moments before, pinched her side teasingly before going to patrol the campground.

Aelin drifted with the ghost of his lips against hers.

* * *

Dorian didn't know what to make of her.

Calaena Sardothien.

The famed assassin sat curled on the grass, gazing at the moon that bathed her in cold faint light. She gazed at the stars as if they held shards of her very soul.

She had been quiet in the throne room - her eyes ringed with a cold fire. A feline observing her surroundings.

And then the fire had flared, first with the Duke and then in response to Chaol. As cold as she was, there was something to be admired about her. Her resilience and determination was astounding and Dorian had to keep himself from hounding her with searching questions.

She had closed her eyes and the soft smile that pulled at her lips was unlike any expression he had seen on her face.

She was a mystery - an assassin who murdered and yet looked back at her prison with such empathy for its remaining needed to leave her be - no matter how much he wanted to solve the riddle she posed.

* * *

This time Rowan was prepared for the nausea and weakness that hit him when he passed the borders. The journey had taken less time than expected, with the wind blowing in their favour.

His magic had left him and he felt weakly for the mating bond - the block of magic dulling his sense of it. The glass castle stood proudly and he stepped off the docks into the city as another shadow in the night.

He would not rest tonight, scouring the city for any trace of her scent, listening in windows for a hint of her location.

"The Crown Prince!"

"Yes, tomorrow -"

"I heard he went -"

"Up south? Whatever for?"

Rowan let a smirk pull at his lips, his fangs bared in triumph.

Tomorrow. If Dorian was there, chances are so would Aelin.

Tomorrow he would see his Fireheart.

With a final glance at the palace, Rowan faded back into the shadows as he drew his own plan. To whatever end, he would find Aelin tomorrow.

* * *

 **Hope you like this Chapter! Thanks for the support guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

Aelin breathed in the scent of the city - the spices, and pastries, spoiled milk and dirt. Rifthold had it's flags adorning most of the buildings they passed. Crowds surged in clusters along the sides of roads to catch a glimpse of their crowned prince

Aelin sat unshackled, painted and dressed up on her horse which trotted behind Chaol and Dorian. They had been primped and dressed like her. For once, she couldn't find the pleasure in the velvet fabric as she had before.

Women flocked to Dorian and he typically waved back with a charming grin in their direction. The same women eyed her with distaste - to be fair, if she had been in the crowd a year ago, she would have done the same. She felt like a prize object being led around the city on display - the crowds that gathered weren't helping. This was the city of assassins - and how many of them would be angry at her release?

They turned into the shopping district and Aelin's back straightened abruptly. A shiver ran down her spine and she turned inconspicuously around the streets, scanning through the people - there!

A shadowed hood leaning in the hollow between two buildings. She blinked again and cursed her human eyes as she couldn't make out anything of the blur, before it moved further down the line and she lost it.

Chaol turned to her and moved closer

"What is it?" He hissed quietly.

"I - nothing. It's fine."

Chaol didn't look as if he believed her for a moment, but he nodded and moved back upfront. Aelin took the chance to search around the crowd as they neared the docks and this time the movement that caught her eye was angled just right.

Between two docked ships, underneath an unlit lantern - the hooded figure raised their head and Aelin lost all breath.

Pale blonde hair - long in a way she hadn't seen for months - peaked out from beneath the dark cloak. Blue eyes locked with hers and she couldn't restrain the joyed grin that spread across her lips.

 _Rowan._

His grin was almost feral with relief.

 _Fireheart._

The moment was small or maybe it lasted hours - Aelin wouldn't have noticed. She just drank in his features, the slope of his nose, the curve of his eyes as he gave her the softest smile. His features were thinner than she remembered, and she found herself dragging her eyes over his body for any injuries. Rowan inclined his head slightly.

 _I'll find you._

She gave him the barest of nods, her heart pounding so fast she was sure he could hear it. And then as her horse continued forward, as she wanted to leap from it and tumble down and run to him - Rowan pulled his hood further forward and faded into the shadows. Aelin knew that he would be following them - her - to the castle and finding his way in.

Her chest felt tight and loose with joy.

Chaol was still looking at her when she faced forward, his eyes not finding any answer in hers as they approached the courtyard of the glass castle. She grinned at him unrepentantly.

Dorian approached her when she dismounted with raised eyebrows.

"Eager to start the competition?"

She felt a laugh escape her, the sound abrupt and surprised.

"Eager to bathe I think - hopefully not in a room made of glass?"

Chaol's eyes furrowed in confusion.

Dorian looked delighted at her response. Had she really been that unagreeable?

" You're like me then - I did give you the rooms in the stone castle. I would positively hate for you to be uncomfortable."

Aelin couldn't bring herself to care about the slightest sarcasm that laced his words, couldn't care about the glare Chaol was giving her. Rowan was _here._ Rowan _remembered_ and he was _here._ Her grin widened at the prince and he blinked at her in surprise.

"The contest starts tomorrow - Chaol will show you to your chambers." Before he left he swept his eyes down her face, resting on the pull of her lips. "Perhaps your good mood shall last into the meeting with the king - do try not to get yourself killed?

And Dorian strode away to a lady who had been fanning herself with lace in his direction.

Chaol had already started walking and Aelin kept pace just behind until they reached the chambers. Aelin didn't hear Chaol leave as she rushed into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and moving to the windows. The sight of armed guards posted at each entrance had Aelin deflating the hope that had built in her chest. Rowan would not be able to sneak in, even if he could figure out which room was hers.

She thought of ways to sneak outside as she bathed, even through her conversation with Phillipa who prodded her to get dressed and pushed her to eat.

* * *

Chaol strode alongside her down the hall under the pretence of boredom. She knew these halls and most of the rooms that lead from them - she was just looking for a glimpse of a pathway where she could sneak Rowan in, or maybe sneak out to see him.

They passed Queen Georgina's courts and Aelin resisted the urge to tease Chaol - Chaol hated Hollin, Dorian's younger brother, and defending him to Aelin must have been grating. They seemed to be walking for some time when they entered the gardens and the screech of the clock tower pounded at her ears.

Her heart stuttered as she looked at it.

How easy would it be to destroy it and regain her magic?

Chaol noticed her watching.

"The clock tower - the King had it built when Dorian was a child."

Of course he had. It was to protect Dorian - Aelin couldn't risk the release of magic till after he had been trained. Although, the clock tower hadn't affected him had it? She needed to plan this carefully - too soon and she would be trapped and risk too many lives. Too late, and Erawan would seize control…

"What a ghastly thing." Her gaze cooled as she observed the tower. The wyrdmarks that surrounded it reminded her of Elena - she would speak to her tonight. Perhaps a visit to the library first?

Chaol demonstrated the same surprise at her love for books. This time she didn't resist her teasing response,

"Don't you?"

After a brief but tense discussion, Chaol had allowed her to take some books back to her room - after speaking to Dorian of course. The books she collected seemed inconspicuous at first - fictional history and mythology - but centred around Maeve and the old Kings and Queens of Adarlan.

When she returned to her rooms, she had immediately gone to the balcony and placed herself in the chair as if on watch. The guards had tensed at first, and after the first half hour or two, relaxed again keeping their grip on their weapons.

Aelin looked out to the border of the glass castle where she had last seen Rowan. How would he break in? It would be relatively easy, she thought, if he didn't care of the consequences. But Rowan was better at politics than her. He knew she would want to save Nehemia and wouldn't want to leave Chaol and Dorian just yet. How would he join her? There was no question that he wouldn't.

Seeing him again had eased the ache slightly but she missed him all the more.

Tomorrow she would meet the king. And this time, she would be prepared for the demon minion inhabiting the body of her friend's father.

* * *

Rowan had spent the night learning the layout of the city again, finalizing the details of his plan even as the sun rose in the sky past mid morning.

He had heard crowds chatter from the road before he saw them and slipped into the shadows along one side behind the group traveling towards the castle.

Stealthily, he weaved through the backs of the mass, catching glimpses through soldiers of a woman who could only be Aelin. Her form was lithe and thin - too much so. His fists clenched. How must she have felt awakening in Endovier? Rowan ducked into some shadowed back alleys, keeping to their corners as he sprinted ahead of the slow moving entourage.

He stopped in the shopping district - Aelin would notice him there - and his eyes caught her form again. He couldn't look away. She hadn't noticed him yet, her gaze drifting lazily around the road as they moved. Rowan could see beneath the careful set of her shoulders and the politely blank face - Aelin was holding on to a weight he couldn't yet reach.

He noticed when she first sensed him. Rowan saw her shoulders barely tense and her back straighten - brushing off Chaol when he leaned towards her and swept through the crowd with her eyes. Rowan saw her eyes squint as they landed on him and cursed - her human form didn't have the senses of Fae. She wouldn't be able to distinguish him from the rest, and so he slipped away the the alcove and again sprinted ahead of the flock, racing to the docks. He'd be closer there, if he could just find a spot hidden but visible. Pulling his hood around his head, he carefully positioned himself.

The entourage passed one by one, almost achingly slow in its ascent to the castle. He kept himself shaded and hidden, only stepping out when Aelin approached. Her horse trotted steadily and Aelin looked as if she was searching the crowd for danger.

His nails dug into his skin when he noticed the peak of white bandages from her sleeves. Her hair was a bit limp, as styled as it was, and yet it was Aelin and she was _here._ Her eyes caught his and the grin he saw on her face reflected his own in its ferocity.

 _Rowan._

His heart beat faster and he was thankful she was in her human form.

 _Fireheart._

And everything was suddenly worth it. The journey across the sea, the nausea of losing his magic, the vulnerability in his uncertainty, the worry for his queen, the years he had spent alone - it was all worth it.

 _I'll find you._

He promised her as her eyes roamed his own body looking for injuries as he had done to her moments before. His grin was stretched across his face as he remembered her teasing of "over protective Fae males" - he wasn't the only one and she knew it.

She gave the barest of nods and he caught Chaol's eyes watching Aelin and with a final glance, slipped back into the shadows. He would follow the company until they slipped through the fortress of the Castle, just as a precaution.

His letter should be arriving today if not tomorrow - and then he could see his Fireheart for real.

* * *

The day passed in a blur as Rowan explored the perimeter of the castle, his sense of smell though dampened still stronger than that of humans. He could figure out which rooms Aelin was housed in - the scent of embers a clear giveaway to those that knew it well.

Before he had left for Adarlan, he had sent a letter to both Fenrys and Gavriel and his cousin, Enda - entreating them for a favour. If they could send a note - with the two official seals of House Whitehorn and the Fae Kingdom, Rowan would be an ambassador here to watch the championship in good will. He waited out the night in Aelin's old apartment, giving up on sleep sometime after dawn to approach the castle. He hadn't given a lot of detail in his letter, only telling Fenrys and Gavriel to be discreet and alluding to a "mission". With Enda - a past debt and a forgiveness granted if he replied with his support.

Their cautiously affirmative response was all he needed.

The glass castle was a sight in the sunlight. The air was cool and crisp, and the wind that blew around him made his chest ache for his magic. The sun had dragged itself higher into the sky as he made his way to the entrance of the castle, passing guards who looked at him with suspicion.

The entrance official looked at him, his Fae ears proudly on display, weapons strapped to his side, looking for all the world like the royalty that he had avoided all his life.

"I'd like a meeting with the King."

* * *

 **So! The next chapter. Sorry if it felt repetitive, but I really wanted to give Rowan's take on seeing her again so tbh that bit was just for me.**


	4. Chapter 4

Aelin's feet dragged, barely caught in the frill Phillipa had dressed in, as she stumbled after Chaol. The former assassin cursed her shoes to the deepest pits of hell - they looked gorgeous but they stung each part of her feet as she was towed behind Chaol.

The meeting with the King.

Aelin chest tightened - and it wasn't the corset.

"When you enter - stop where I stop" Chaol was saying. She barely heard him.

The King - Dorian's father, but also a Valg. The true king was trapped inside, had done everything to ensure Dorian's safety. She couldn't let him sense anything different about her, if her foreknowledge went into the hands of the Valg…

"Celaena - he's just a man." Chaol looked at her, his brows furrowing in concern. Perhaps her cheeks, already pale from Endovier, looked sickly.

" You're not on trial." He continued.

A trial? A low noise left her throat. This was the ultimate test - if she could get through this meeting without arising his suspicion, without calling attention to herself -

The Valg could not be allowed that foreknowledge. At all costs.

Aelin let her face slip into the cool mask, her features unsettlingly calm. She clasped her hands tightly to calm the slightest shaking, and the only thing that betrayed her nerves was the tight grip of her knuckles.

Chaol glanced at her again as they came to a stop in a long hallway where four guards were posted on two glass doors.

She gave him a nod - the slightest tilt of her lips and he looked forward again as he led her through the gates.

* * *

Despiteher preparation - her breath still hitched when she entered. The room glowed with a subtle green light, the floors a marbled red. The King was looking straight at her and when he spoke the words seemed to claw at her. Of course, she bowed low as soon as she entered. Kept her mouth shut and her gaze away from his.

Sweeping her eyes across the room, her heart stuttered again when she noticed Duke Perrington. Erawan. Gods.

The King of the Valgs.

Her eyes tore away from his form and she noticed her 23 competitors and couldn't bring herself to care for how they overlooked her. How jealous she was of them - their only care in the world winning this championship.

"And if you fall behind, if you fail, you will be packed off to whichever dark hole you were pulled from."

When the King spoke, Aelin couldn't help but notice the wrongness in the baritones of his voice. A subtle undertone, dark as the demon that lived in his body - so clear and yet so hidden.

Aelin kept her gaze steadily on the ground.

A test every week from 13 weeks. She could do that in her sleep - but the rest…

Footsteps thudded along the long hallway outside, and guard entered, bowing low.

"Your Highness -" his gaze was fearful, "I apologize sincerely for the interruption, but there's a man - he's insisting and we think you'd wish to see him."

The King's court flinched - the interruption may have been punishable by death at the very least. Dorian stood, grinning.

"I'll handle it, if we're finished." Dorian bowed, his back barely bending, and nodded to the mute councillors, taking the guard by the arm and leading him away. Aelin wondered if he'd saved that guards career - his own impertinence hidden with his status.

She repressed the hope that built in her chest at who the man could be, carefully keeping her features cool.

The King looked contemplatively at the glass doors and Aelin felt as if his gaze was crawling on her own skin.

"If there are no questions," his gaze burned when it landed on her. "You may take your leave."

There was a rush of bows and the steady trickle out the door. Chaol led her through the throng of sponsors and contestants who stayed near the entrance, not speaking till he passed the corridor and turned the first corner.

* * *

Dorian was leaning against the wall, his back turned to them. A tall figure, the palest of blonde hair covered the faint peak of pointed ears, stood in front of him. His pine green eyes caught Aelin's, and he smirked a gorgeous smile.

Aelin couldn't restrain her grin. He raised an eyebrow.

 _Did you doubt me?_

A slight laugh escaped her.

 _Of course not - Buzzard._

The world could have burned at that moment and she wouldn't have cared.

Dorian noticed his companions straying attention span, and turned himself, smiling in confusion at the grin on her face.

"How convincing you were in your bowing and nodding! A sincere congratulations, _Lillian._ "

Rowan looked at her, amused.

Her eyes glittered in response.

"Lillian - was it?"

Rowans voice lilted in its teasing.

"You can call me anything you like." She flirted back, her grin rising on one side.

"My wife might object to that - she's slightly possessive."

Aelin raked her gaze away from his eyes down his form, a smile tugging her lips as she locked her eyes with his again.

"She must be a wise and staggering beauty to keep you so faithful."

Rowan's answering smirk flashed his teeth and Aelin's eyes burned hotter.

"She is."

Dorian interjected their staring match.

"Chaol, Lillian, this is Rowan Whitethorn. He's an ambassador of the Fae Kingdom and House Whitehorn."

"A pleasure." Aelin extended her hand and Rowan took it with the grace of any royalty - gently kissing the back. His hands were callused and her own felt frail in his. The year in Endovier had not treated her body well. Rowan seemed to know where her thoughts had headed and gripped her hand tighter, his lips lingering even as he separated.

Chaol coughed, before shaking Rowan's hand. Aelin turned her head, hiding her laughing smile beneath her hair. Gods she'd missed him.

She kept her legs tense and still - Rowan was _here_ and all she wanted to do was drag him far away from this place.

Dorian looked between them.

"How interesting - Whitethorn, you may be the first person to catch her interest."

Rowan's smirk turned soft as he gazed at her and Aelin couldn't tear her own eyes away.

"Your Highness! What a surprise!"

She blinked, and then frowned slightly. Kaltain dressed in the finest luxury barely glanced in her direction before turning her back to Aelin. She dragged her gaze from Dorian and looked at Rowan with a gleam in her eye Aelin did not like. She resisted the urge to bare her teeth at her.

"Her Majesty wished to see, Your Highness -"

Kaltain tore her gaze from Rowan to look at Dorian. Dorian himself looked like he was just barely managing not to grimace, but then he glanced at her and the smirk on his face put her on edge.

"Lady Kaltain - have I introduced you to my guest?" His winning smile didn't do anything to reassure Aelin.

"This is Lady Lillian Gordiana, from Bellhaven - sadly she's only staying a few years." Dorian's exaggerated sigh of disappointment barely disguised his amusement.

"Only?" Kaltain asked.

Rowan cleared his throat, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I suppose with company as lovely as hers, years seem remarkably short." His voice was smooth as silk.

Aelin's eyes locked with his, and her lips tugged back into a smile.

 _Smooth._

The crinkle around his eyes betrayed Rowan's amusement.

"Yes - Lady Lillian and Captain Westfall are very close companions -" Dorian could've been cut by the sharp gaze Rowan gave him, but Aelin remained amused. It was so _freeing_ to joke around like this. She ached to step forward, it would only take a few steps - she'd be in Rowan's arms, her mate, her _husband -_

Chaol gazed at her consideringly.

"Well! I wouldn't want to keep mother waiting - Chaol, would you escort Lord Rowan to a spare room for the night?" Dorians energy seemed falsely exuberant, as he took his leave.

Kaltain seemed put off, almost resigned as she left.

Chaol gave Aelin a strained smile - not wanting to arouse Rowan's suspicion after being labeled "close" to her.

"This way," Chaol strode ahead, but Aelin lingered behind, slowing down her pace as Rowan did the same.

* * *

They didn't speak, the closeness of their bodies enough for now. The silence seemed comforting now, instead of deafening as it had in Maeve's coffin and Endovier's cells -

Rowan gaze darted to Chaol, who had slowed his pace and seemed to be debating whether or not to start a conversation. Then, almost ostentatiously, with a flirty smile more for Chaol's benefit than hers, Rowan offered her his arm and Aelin took it gratefully.

Her breath stuttered slightly and she felt Rowan's muscles relax.

How did he always know when her mind drifted to dark places?

They stopped in front of the guards to her rooms and the delicious smell of her lunch wafted even though the closed doors. Before Chaol could speak, she moved closer to Rowan.

"Would you like to join me for lunch, Rowan, Chaol?"

"Of course -"

"I'm afraid I -"

They both paused.

Chaol glanced between them as he started again.

"I'm afraid I have duties to attend to," Chaol's gaze drifted to Rowan, who's answering smile was close lipped.

" Of course, Lillian - perhaps Captain Westfall could show me to my room first?" There was an undercurrent of steel in his voice.

Chaol affirmative answer was reluctant at best, and Aelin watched the two leave with a buoyant heart.

It was necessary to keep her cover as Lillian and Caleana - who had never met Rowan before. But a simple lunch, without Chaol, would allow them privacy to truly talk and be just Aelin and Rowan.

She grinned brightly at her guards before prancing into the lounge of her rooms, the food remaining untouched until a knock sounded on the door less than half an hour later.

* * *

 **Sorry this took way longer to update - exam season's coming up! Hope** **you enjoyed it, this chapter was a bit shorter, but the next one will be much longer - with a few twists and turns!**


	5. Chapter 5

Rowan's heart was pounding against his ribs, fighting to be freed and he was beyond thankful Aelin hadn't noticed. After they got past the shock - the sheer relief - he would never have lived it down. Leaving her at the door of her room, surrounded by guards, had been almost as difficult as watching her leave for Adarlan. But - she was here. Out of Maeve's clutches, out of Endovier, relatively safe.

His nails dug into the flesh of his palms as he followed Chaol further up the hall, past two winding staircases.

She had been in Endovier again. Not to mention in Maeve's deceitful clutches - Rowan knew all too well of her cruelty. He feared for the world if anything happened to Aelin - how quickly would he lose his humanity? How quickly would that wind turn to a hurricane?. Where Aelin was the passion, the wildfire that burned quickly and fiercely - Rowan was the icy wind, an anger that built slowly, a rage that caused blizzards and destroyed cities. And Maeve had earned the full slow build of his hatred.

Chaol glanced at him.

"A Fae envoy?" The tone was not quite suspicious, but a curious sort of doubt.

"Sent by the Whitethorns and Queen Maeve."

"The Faes have never been interested in Adarlan before," Chaol's eyes furrowed slightly. "What changed?"

Rowan met Chaol's gaze steadily.

"Rumours have reached ears across the sea - most felt it wise to pursue them."

"You would come all this way just for some rumours?"

"Every fable has some amount of truth in it."

Chaol was the first to look away. Silence fell again as they walked, even the this of their feet seemed to be muted. Rowan watched this Chaol, younger and less jaded, as he minutely opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"You should be… cautious - around Lillian." His voice was hesitant, the words carefully chosen by one who had conflicting desires. Rowan let his lips pull into a smirk.

"Lillian.." he let the name roll slightly on his tongue. Whatever name Aelin went by, whatever mask she chose, her core would always be the same. "She has a fire. What a sight it would make - to be able to witness her fire grow, don't you think?"

So maybe he was poking at Chaol a little bit.

But the stress and frustration Rowan could see building up in Chaol's eyes made something in him - probably what Aelin called his "stupid Fae male" side slightly smug.

"Perhaps it is not her fire I worry for," Chaol wouldn't look at him. "It is her ice."

Rowan's fingernails dug half-moon crescent's into the palm of his hand. Aelin's ice was a result of Endovier, of that iron box, of the innocents that had died. But just as she had dragged him out of centuries of ice - of drowning in a frozen lake, Rowan would do the same.

"Just be - be cautious."

"You will not join us in lunch?"

"I cannot - however, guards are stationed around the halls and if you need anything they can escort you in the right direction."

Rowan hid the upward tilt of his lips by turning away slightly. They stopped in front of a double mahogany door. Chaol's eyes held a slight distrust but he gave him a nod before he turned away. Rowan inclined his head in response, entering his rooms swiftly in pretense. As soon as Chaol's back had turned he had wanted to head straight back to Aelins rooms. Inside his own - a grounded luxury of wood and cloth, he paced up and down the center of the hardwood floor.

Two. Four. Six. Eight steps, turn. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Turn.

How long would he need to wait before he could leave?

He paused for a few more seconds, counted up till 30 - and then slipped back out of his room. There were some guards along the corridor, and Rowan slipped by them as the looked in the opposite direction.

His footsteps were light but quick, stealthily making his way towards the door he had left his Fireheart in. If he could avoid the guards seeing him, he could stay longer. Would it be suspicious if he stayed the night? Gods, it had taken everything in him to walk away, Rowan wasn't sure he had the strength to do it again.

And then the double sided doors were there, still yet beckoning. Rowan could find no way to slip past the two guards stationed in front them undetected, but at this point he couldn't bring himself to care. So what if people knew he stayed with Aelin? What could they do?

With barely an acknowledgement to those guards, Rowan opened the door, slipped inside and shut it behind him. There was no lock.

Aelin stood ahead from him. Aelin, alive and safe, his mate, his carranam, his wife.

He wasn't sure who moved first, wasn't sure if it has been him who had stepped forward and collided with Aelins body or if it had been Aelin who had ran to him. He wasn't sure if they had both surged forward. Rowan didn't care. All he cared about was holding her in his arms, holding his mate - who had been taken from him but was safe - his arms held her thighs, noticing absently how heartbreakingly thin they were, and his lips met hers in a moment of pure rightness. This was where he was meant to be. With Aelin, his equal in every way. Who understood him and challenged him - who fought with a ferocious intent to keep innocents safe. Her hands moved up from his shoulders, to the sides of his face and then his cheeks as if reassuring herself. Rowan deepened the kiss and gripped her tighter, supporting her with one hand as his other moved to hold her closer to him, his own confirmation, a reply to her unasked questions.

Lips pressed against lips, opening, closing, frantically. Hands gripped and moved, reacquainting themselves with the others body. "Rowan," A name, gasped into the echoing room. And answering groan, caught between a growl and a sigh, reflected back. A mouth moved down to the neck, hands tearing at the others shirt, the material ripping and scratching. There was a shuffle and they were against a hard surface - the wall? The door? Aelin didn't care. Her hands scratched at Rowan's bare back as his mouth nipped down her throat, suckling the hollow at the base. She didn't know when he had removed it or where it had gone, and she couldn't bring herself to care. Usually he was the one with the constraint, and she wanted to - gods she wanted to - but they didn't have time, there were more important things to worry about and oh-

Aelin's thoughts went blank slightly as his mouth dipped lower past the deep collar of her gown. Rowan's mouth was wickedly raised in a smirk, his teeth slightly scratching against the sensitive skin. "Rowan," she tried again, more to convince herself to stop.

"Fireheart," Rowans hot breath scorched her already burning body. His mouth had migrated from below the neckline of her dress up to the side of her neck at her collarbone. The slightest nip he gave made her shudder, and the crooked rise of his lips against her skin was enough to force herself back to the present.

She brought her hands - which had been digging crescent shaped moons onto his back - up to his hair, tugging it gently. Rowan followed immediately, his concerned gaze finding hers.

"Rowan," the name was said with all the hope and awe she felt, all the fears she had kept bottled up inside - but this was Rowan. This was her mate, her husband, her carranam. Her equal in everyway, who had supported her when she at her lowest and loved her through it all.

"Aelin," her own name sent such a rush of relief to her chest that her breath caught. No one had called her by her name since she had woken in the dungeons of Endovier. It had been Celaena and Lillian - and she didn't expect the relief of losing her masks. It was as if she was sharing Rowan's own strength, as if even despite the lack of magic in Adarlan he had found a way to do so.

Gods she loved him.

"Fireheart," Rowan's eyes were molten ice staring into hers, "Aelin, we have time. Give yourself this afternoon, this one break-'

Aelin had to laugh slightly at this. "I thought I was the one who encouraged you to have fun?"

And although Rowan's grin was teasing, his words were as true and serious as any oath he had given.

"You deserve a day to heal and relax, Fireheart. Let us have this day - and then tomorrow we'll give them all hell."

Aelin - thinking of Maeve and Mala and Elena and all that would be lost to her, all that she would sacrifice for the world - still held up by Rowan's arms, encircled her own around his neck and leaned down to kiss him.

She could be selfish for a night.

_ **I'm really sorry guys! This is a relatively short chapter with mainly fluff and a brief reunion. I will definitely be writing more but exam seasons been drowning me. I'd actually had this written for weeks and I wanted to wait till I had more to publish it, but seeing as that isn't going to happen for a few weeks more I thought I'd just do it now. Hope you liked it!**


	6. Chapter 6

With Rowan beside her, the reality of her situation was really starting to sink in. She was back to the beginning, back before she met any of her friends, before her disastrous romances with Chaol and Dorian. Back when she had refused to be Aelin Galathynius and remained Celaena. She didn't know Lysandra or Aedion - her closest friends were strangers to her.

Rowan's arms tightened around her.

She leaned back further into him, taking a deep steadying breath.

Not everyone was gone. Rowan was with her. Gods, she didn't know what she'd do if he'd been back under Maeve's clutches, still encased in the ice of grief. She felt his lips press a kiss against her hair and she raised her head to meet them

When they broke apart, the look in his green eyes was as solemn as her own.

"When I woke up in Wendlyn -" he broke off, "Gods Aelin, the thought of you in that place."

"Rowan-"

"And Maeve - Aelin you are not meant to die." His brows had furrowed and Aelin wanted to reach out and smooth them. "I don't care if Mala herself commands it, we can fight them all."

There was a silence between them that dragged.

Rowan held her tightly as if by sheer strength he could keep her with him. Aelin's lips tugged up in a mockery of a smile. It wasn't happy, exactly - she had been cheated out of a lifetime with her mate. But something had given her what she had craved most; more time. And it wasn't enough, it would never be enough but she had it nonetheless.

Their eyes met and they agreed to disagree. Rowan would never give up. Aelin would focus on the present.

"What are we going to do?"

Her voice cracked a little. Their task was monumental. Perhaps it was too much. Restore Magic, lock away Erawan, somehow stop Maeve, create the lock for the gods, save the slaves in the salt mines and Nehemia and countless others…

"We could always leave."

Rowan's voice was weaker than she had ever heard it.

"Leave?"

Even as she said it she knew they could never.

In Rowan's eyes, Aelin could see the life they could have. Far away, in a small home with him and maybe a dog, perhaps some children down the line. No responsibilities, no war…

But without Lysandra or Aedion. Without her country, her people still in chains and dying.

No. They couldn't.

Rowan seemed to know that too.

"How did you get here, Rowan?" She asked.

Rowan's grip around her tightened.

"I - at first I wasn't thinking. All I knew was that you were in Endovier and I needed to get you out." Rowan's eyebrows furrowed. "I got on the first boat here. And then, when I found out you were on your way to Rifthold, I needed to figure out a plan to get into the palace."

Aelin nudged him with her toes.

Rowan nudged back.

"I wrote to Gavriel and Fenrys, and then to Enda. Somehow, someway - they came through with an official enough letter from the Whitethorns - claimed that they wanted to forge a new alliance with Adarlan through trade and had sent me as an envoy. The note is fine enough, as long as they don't question it too deeply."

"You wrote to your cousin?"

"He helped us, Aelin. Turned against Maeve for us. He will do it again."

They shared a look. _He shouldn't have to._

"And what about Maeve?" Aelin asked, the name like ice on her tongue.

"She must suspect by now. The bond is gone - and I did leave Misthold with no explanation." Rowan grimaced. "She must suspect that I have found a way to disintegrate it - she will be floundering and furious. I expect one of my Cadre will be sent after me."

"How long?"

"A few weeks more at the very least. They will have to track me down, and the journey is long."

Aelin focused her gaze on Rowan's shirt. There was a small button there and she moved it between two fingers.

"So what's our plan now?"

"We need to assemble our court."

* * *

Aelin knew she was being irrationally angry. Chaol had not deserved her sharp barbs and she was probably scaring the few people that crossed their paths as they headed to the training room.

But it was an hour after dawn, she had been awoken by a nightmare and had spent the rest of the night reading. Rowan was nowhere to be seen.

She glared balefully up at the clear skies and the morning sun.

Aelin hadn't wanted to kick Rowan out, in fact, she'd love it if he never left her side again. But the sun had been slowly creeping down in the curse of time, their lunch as is had last far longer than normal. Rowan was here as an ambassador of the Fae, and as far as everyone else knew he had never met Celaena Sardothien or Lillian Gordiana.

"With the murderous look on your face," started Chaol, glancing at her warily. "I'm not sure if I should give you a weapon."

"If you think you can't disarm me should I start killing everyone," Aelin smirked, "maybe you should hand me the damned championship and be done with it."

Chaol handed her the steel.

It glinted in the early morning light and her glare returned in full force.

Aelin watched the familiar movement of Chaol's body, the way he tilted slightly in the direction he aimed to attack. As he swung forward, moving almost to fast for her weaker, mortal body to comfortably block- she stepped back and sideways, bending to sweep out a kick which was nearly dodged.

She scowled again.

It was all so familiar, and yet so different

This Chaol had never been paralysed. He had never had to leave the castle in disgrace, never gone through any of the decisions that made Chaol the man he became.

But, he was quick to laugh. His smiles came easier and there was still an innocence to his eyes.

And, gods' help her, she wanted to protect that innocence.

Chaol lunged again, and caught up in her thoughts, she barely blocked him, the blunt edge of the silver catching at her side. She hissed.

"One thing you should know about me Sardothien," Chaol was panting.

She paused, circling him. She aimed low, feinting right and striking from the left. He turned just in time, catching the blade with his, trapping the two in a battle of strengths.

"I never lose."

Her arms shook. She pressed on, darting her eyes around for any weakness. The pressure increased and she let her hand fold, the blade skittering away. Chaol let out a small house of victory, too soon. She swept her feet underneath his in one smooth movement, and as he moved to the right to dodge it her right elbow met his gut.

A grunt and a quick kick to the back of the knee, and Chaol was down. Aelin picked up his fallen sword and hers.

"Neither do I." She smirked.

"That - that doesn't count." Chaol looked indignant, but he seemed to be warming up to her. "You tripped me."

What a reversal. His own trick from the first time around used against him.

"That might've worked this time, but the judges will be quick to disqualify," Chaol dusted off his knees, and turned to the weapons rack. "Go again - and this time try to beat me with your weapon rather than resorting to fists."

Aelin looked at him and a shadow of a smile tugged at her lips.

"No promises."

And Chaol returned that hesitant grin. Maybe this time all that had gone wrong with them wouldn't. Maybe their relationship would start and remain with friendship - no bitter betrayal, no jealousy. Simple as a Captain of the Guard and an ex-assassin's friendship can be.

That is to say, not very.

She lunged again.

Their swords clanged and they lost themselves in the sweat of swordplay.

* * *

By that afternoon, it was pouring down with rain.

She had spent the rest of the morning training with Chaol and then being reintroduced to the champions. Most of them she dismissed as nameless, vaguely recognizable through the haze of time. They hadn't been important the first time, and she doubted they would be this time.

But there was Cain and the Eye Eater and countless other evils.

But there was Nox Owen.

She had almost forgotten about him.

A thief from Peranth who even then she had felt responsible for. Her people had been forced to turn to crime, and she was not there to prevent it. Nox was kind to a jewel thief and then an assassin - and so she had warned him away when contestants had first started dropping like flies.

And she felt responsible for him still.

But perhaps, he would be useful. She desperately wanted to discuss it with Rowan, but she had sent him (reluctantly) to charm Dorian.

Chaol had asked her about Rowan at lunch, and Nox as well. Perhaps she hadn't been as subtle as she ended when she returned his looks and made casual conversation about where Nox had come from.

"Just feeling out the competition," she had responded, the mask of Calaena smirking.

For a brief moment, she felt as if Chaol could see through that mask. See the grief and determination that had driven her to pursue a friendship with Nox.

But the moment passed, and Chaol moved on.

He had pursued Rowan and Aelin may have insinuated that his company was refreshing after a year without company.

That had shut him up fairly quickly, his cheeks reddening.

She had forgotten how easy it was to get Chaol to blush when they had first met.

After considering her training and the effort she had put into it, Chaol had conceded in accompanying her on a walk around the palace. The storm had an earthy smell and it filled her lungs and seemed to give her strength.

She had met Nehemia on this walk.

Her heart was threatened to beat out of her chest.

The Princess of Eyllwe. Her friend who had known about her, who she really was. She had gotten to know the assassin and then discovered the assassin was another rebel princess. She had been a light in a world that had been so dark. She wanted to ask so much - why had she not confided in her? Had it been her plan to die all along? Why had she gone through with it? Why?

She didn't know if she would launch herself her or not.

Her heart physically ached, a confusing mess of anger, grief, betrayal and love.

What would she think of her now?

She, who had fought for the freedom of her people.

Aelin had failed to free them. The slaves in Calculating had been massacred.

She had failed her.

Chaol gripped her elbow, nudging her out of her deepening dark thoughts. His eyes were almost pitying, and Aelin walked faster to avoid them.

And straight into Kaltain Romper.

Kaltain had sacrificed herself for their cause. Without her, Erawan would have two wyrdkeys - her sacrifice had bought them time.

And behind her stood Nehemia.

Aelin's breath caught in her throat.

Nehemia looked between Chaol and Aelin, and for a brief moment, she thought she had seen recognition glint in her eyes.

But quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by unfamiliar caution. Her guards trailed after them, their weapons poised.

"This is the Royal Highness, Princess Nehemia Ytger of Eyllwe," Kaltain announced, her tone a touch shy of envy.

Chaol bowed, as was expected.

When it came to Aelin, she sank to her knees.

Nehemia's eyes softened. Her lips pulled into a slow smile.

"Rise, Elentiya," she said.

Aelin's head snapped up and she locked eyes with Nehmia.

And she had not been mistaken.

There was recognition there.

 _Elentiya_.

 _The spirit that cannot be broken._

Despite herself, her eyes burned.

She was not alone.

* * *

 **sorry for such a late update! I wasn't sure where I wanted to take the story as a whole, but I've figured it out now! regular weekly updates are back**


	7. Chapter 7

Aelin's hands shook slightly as she rose. She clenched them behind her back in an effort to still them.

 _Elentiya_.

A phantom pain shot through her heart, as though a wound was attempting to heal. A good hurt.

 _Elentiya_.

The name that had broken her once, long ago. When she had not been Aelin, not been anything at all. Barely Celaena, her ragged edges splintered and sharp as a broken mirror.

To hear it now, from the lips of the friend who had bestowed it on her…

She was not sure she was awake.

For a cruel moment, her mind was back with Maeve.

Maeve had done this. She had woven illusions such as this, entire lifetimes played out over an indefinite length of time. Aelin did not know how long she had been with her, but when she was ripped from the fantasy her torture felt that much worse.

She had woven dreams of a life without the Valg, a life where she had gone to the Torre Cesme and became a healer. A life where she had met a young, innocent Rowan who did not know the harsh reality of loss.

But there was something always off.

Details were missing, the stitching of a shirt just off, or the length of hair slightly uneven. Or the world would be tinted - enough for the feeling of unnatural wrong to persist but never enough to pinpoint what.

And so, even as Aelin's hands shook behind her back, clasping at the fabric there, her eyes scanned the room.

It was raining. It smelt like earth and damp.

Chaol was standing beside her, his gaze bewildered. His eagle winged sword pommel rested at his hip, close enough to draw if need be.

Kaltain stood to the side, her gaze a blank stare of boredom. Aelin's eyes lingered on her and then moved to the guards. Two trailed behind Nehemia. They were her own personal guards and carried curved daggers from Eyllwe.

Nehemia looked _alive_.

Her eyes were full of life and energy and her gaze seemed to say ' _Do not worry. All will be well.'_

And as much as she was furious at her, as she wanted to rage and burn at Nehemia for dying, Aelin let her lips curve into a smile.

It was not a smirk. It was not a cruel jagged twist of lips, a mockery of the symbol. No.

She would not wear Celaena's mask in front of the woman who died to unveil Aelin.

She took a step forward.

The guards moved as if to stop her, but Nehemia raised her hand to halt them. Aelin lowered her head.

"Welcome, Your Highness," she said, in Eyllwe. She saw Chaol jerk his head towards her his eyebrows furrowing. "Have you arrived in Rifthold today?"

"I arrived some short time ago." said Nehemia. They were not talking about Rifthold anymore. "Perhaps we can discuss my journey at a later date?"

Aelin inclined her head and pushed.

"How about a later time?"

She wanted to talk to her friend, her friend who had died for her, who had done everything for her country -

Nehemia's lips twitched but her eyes were clouded.

Kaltain spoke up then, her eyebrows arched.

"I'm afraid I didn't understand a word you said." She gave a small, fake laugh.

Aelin turned her eyes to her and considered her.

If she had returned, if Nehemia and Rowan had returned… Why did it seem like no one else had? Why was it just them?

"We were just talking the weather, " Nehemia said with her accent emphasised. Aelin smirked slightly. She had almost forgotten how convincing Nehemia had been.

"About the weather, you mean." Kaltain eyebrows seemed too high on her forehead. A twinge of annoyance shot through her, but she stepped back.

"Your Highness, " she said, after a pointed glance at Kaltain which the lady ignored. "Would you care to join me for a walk? Chaol was just showing me around the castle."

Not entirely a lie.

Chaol seemed to twitch and glanced between the two girls. One, a foreign royalty. The other an assassin. What could they possibly have in common?

Nehemia smiled then. It was small but it seemed true.

"Yes, I would like to walk," She kept her accent thick.

"Now wait two minutes -" protested a man who Aelin hadn't noticed at all. He was small and cowering, his face steadily turning a bright shade of crimson. His hands were clutching a handkerchief which he had been dabbing t his sweaty forehead.

The councilman.

"You can't just -"

Nehemia's eyes simmered slightly, but before she could say a word she was cut off.

"I'm sure that's not necessary," Dorian came from around the corner. Aelin's heart jumped out of her chest when she saw who he had arrived with. "I'll accompany them myself."

The councilman's small, piggy eyes flickered between Dorian and Nehemia. Whatever small courage he had gathered to speak out against Aelin had vanished at the sight of the heir.

"Yes, of course, Your Highness." He said, bowing lowly. He gave Chaol a small nod, and walked quickly down the corridor, almost running in his haste to leave Dorian.

Aelin returned her eyes to the figure of Rowan standing next to Dorian. She saw him glance at Nehemia and then look at her with concern.

 _Are you okay?_

His eyes asked. Her smile grew.

 _More than ever, Buzzard._

Rowan's lips twitched.

Aelin felt like she could fly. Is this what Rowan felt when he turned into a hawk? This airy freedom of endless possibilities?

Dorian had been sucked into a conversation with Kaltain and looked desperately at Chaol for relief. Chaol, for his part, was standing slightly apart and offering no assistance to his friend.

Nehemia caught Aelin's eyes. She smiled at her, knowing more than guessing who the fae was.

"And who is this?" She asked, in Eyllwe.

Rowan bowed to her and Aelin loved him all the more. Nehemia smile grew.

Before Rowan could explain, Aelin did.

"Rowan Whitethorn, from Doranelle. He's kept me company in this dull place." Aelin grinned at Nehemia.

She laughed.

"A fairly large task keeping this one entertained," Rowan's smirk gave a small flash of his teeth.

Aelin's eyes narrowed playfully at him.

"I'm afraid my Eyllwe needs some more work," Dorian interjected, taking another means to avoid small talk with Kaltain. Kaltain's eyes cooled significantly when she looked at Aelin, Nehemia and Rowan.

Aelin stepped a little farther from her and closer to Rowan. Rowan's fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and pull her near him.

 _Territorial fae male._

Rowan's eyes flicked at her and his twitching lip curled higher into a small smile. She thought he could almost head the eyeroll she wanted to give.

"I'm sure there's plenty of time for you to learn," Rowan was suave as ever, manoeuvring the conversation.

Aelin turned to Dorian.

"We were just discussing dinner - Nehemia and Rowan expressed an interest in joining me."

Chaol eyebrows furrowed.

"Did you and Prince Rowan not have lunch together yesterday?"

"Is it a crime to enjoy another's company more than once?"

Dorian's eyebrows shot up.

"You had lunch together yesterday?" He asked, looking accusingly at Chaol. Aelin rolled her eyes. Dorian's initial distrust of her had been cumbersome.

"I - I regretfully did not join them." Chaol seemed reluctant to say.

Dorian's eyes turned colder, his lips pursing subtly before quirking into a fake courtesan- trained smile.

"Oh, how disappointing!" Dorian aimed his words Rowan, his displeasure at an assassin being left alone with a foreign diplomat clear. "We must join you today."

Chaol exchanged a glance with Dorian, and whatever he found there led him to nod in grudging agreement.

Aelin caught Rowan's eye, and raised her eyebrow slightly as if to say, _What now?_

Nehemia coughed slightly.

"Perhaps another time?" she asked in her thick accent. "I find myself fatigued from the journey."

Chaol gave a subtle sigh of relief.

"Of course," Dorian replied smoothly, offering Nehemia his arm. Aelin stifled a laugh when Nehemia ignored it and continued to walk on.

"And you, Rowan?" She asked, her lips tugging up.

Rowan's gaze found hers and he returned the smirk.

 _Are you trying to infuriate them?_

 _I'd love a little help, Buzzard._

Rowan's lip twitched slightly higher.

"I can't abandon my duty so quickly, my lady,"

Nehemia caught Aelin's eye, both of them grinning.

Chaol's shoulders tensed and even Dorian looked slightly uneasy but spoke up readily enough.

"Your duty?"

Rowan's smile cooled several degrees, gaining a sharpness to them.

"Of course - Liliana," Rowan's lips adopted a wry edge, "is a difficult lady to entertain."

"And those books I had sent from the royal library weren't enough?"

"Never - I finished them last night"

Of course, she hadn't. But she had read them before, Dorian had sent her the same ones the first time around and she had no desire to read them again. Perhaps he would send her some new ones.

"Difficult indeed." Dorian was smooth, and he exchanged an amused look with Rowan.

They walked further on in the courtyard, the path winding. It never strayed to any exit or training grounds, Dorian's presence keeping a keen watch on what they saw. They did pass the black clock tower - the key to the release of magic.

Aelin felt it's gaze on the back of her head as if it had eyes.

The conversation flowed steadily - Nehemia talked about Eyllwe and its people. She, in turn, talked about theatres and libraries and the arts in her own home (which was never named). Chaol chimed in occasionally, with wry comments but mostly kept out of it. Behind her trailed Rowan and Dorian, rekindling a kind of friendship. Rowan was a fae, and magic was abhorred in Adarlan. But he came with the protection of his reputation and that of his house, Whitethorn. And he and Dorian shared that experience of heirs who had never wanted to be heirs. She heard his cadre, and Dorian reciprocate with stories of Chaol.

The topic was steered cleanly by Rowan, about armies and combat.

"And what of the Wolf of the North?" He asked, smoothly. Aelin stuttered slightly in her response to Nehemia but continued determinedly, as if she had not one bit of care to what Rowan and Dorian were discussing.

"Ashryver?" Dorian asked surprised. "He's a good general - ruthless, but good."

"His reputation has spread as far as Doranelle," commented Rowan lightly.

"He left a few weeks ago for Terrasen, he's due back for regular check-ins every couple of months."

Dorian scowled slightly, his face betraying his distaste.

"Well," declared Aelin, forcing a smile. The gardens were slowly darkening, tinted orange with the sunset. "It seems about time for dinner?"

Nehemia clasped her hand. "We must meet again soon - and often. Teach me your language,"

"I would enjoy the company," Aelin's smile became a genuine curl.

Dorian glanced between the two, displeased but couldn't speak up. He exchanged a glance with Chaol, who after a moment strode forward and offered Nehemia his arm.

"Could I escort you to your rooms?"

Nehemia considered him for a moment and then accepted his offer. Together the two, trailed by her guards, walked down the corridor after brief goodbyes to Dorian and Rowan.

When they turned left and out of sight, Aelin looked at her two companions.

She gave Rowan a grin.

"Shall we?" She asked, and in imitation of Chaol, Rowan offered her his own arm. Aelin laughed, delighted and feeling happier than she could ever remember. Rowan was with her and Nehemia was alive. Aedion would be with her soon.

Dorian caught her gaze and seemed so struck by the obvious happiness in it.

"Dinner?" She prompted him.

They walked down the hall to her own room, her hand clasping Rowan tightly. Rowan walked closer to her side then strictly necessary, all the while keeping a smooth conversation running with Dorian. He knew that rare as it was, she did not want to speak. Words were useless.

Perhaps she could call Aedion here sooner. Nehemia was _alive_ and together they would free the slaves from Endovier and Calculla. Maeve and Erawan felt like distant monsters, stories told in the darkness that disappeared in the light.

And this hope, these people that she had by her side - that was the light.

* * *

 **another chapter! not too much has happened in it, but i promise things will pick up quite a bit fairly soon. see you soon!**


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